


Words

by adelaide_rain



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-30
Updated: 2011-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adelaide_rain/pseuds/adelaide_rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale reflects on the way he felt after Crowley fell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words

Angels fall.

Aziraphale knew that. He'd felt it when his beautiful Kyriel had his wings torn from his back. Watching it, something had torn in him as well. It was horrible, almost a physical feeling which he now knew to be called 'pain'.

At first, he'd thought it far too simple a word for that awful feeling. Upon contemplation, however, he'd found it was a word with hidden nuances. At first sharp and almost uncouth but something about it stayed with you - an uneasiness and wariness haunted you when the word had been spoken, just like with the emotion.

Pain was something Aziraphale didn't want to feel again.

And then he saw the demon Crawly for the first time; if anything it hurt even more. It was like seeing a horrible parody of his soulmate: eyes that were once azure now a golden yellow with slitted pupils, lips that had once smiled with soft joy now twisted humourlessly, skin that was once flawless now marked on the arms and legs and down the spine with shining scales. New wings had grown, but though they looked like angel wings, the aura was wrong - inverted - and it made Aziraphale's heart ache to look at him.

It had been better - far better - when Crawly had the form of a snake. He had known it was Kyriel, of course, but it was easier to ignore that fact when all he could see was a serpent.

Crawly had looked at him, his face unreadable, and Aziraphale felt a new emotion, stronger even than the pain. At the time, he hadn't known what it was but he had since found it to be called 'anger'. This too was a good word - harsh, stronger at the beginning but lingering and bitter. Anger had caused him to turn from Crawly without a word and stalk off. He had heard Crawly call out him name but had ignored it, too angry to care whether or not his actions would hurt the demon. If demons even had emotions.

And now Aziraphale was seeing a different version of Crawly. The beginning of civilisation was something that both Heaven and Hell wanted to witness and various angels and demons had been sent to watch.

Each of the celestial and infernal beings had been given a human body so as not to upset the mortals and now Aziraphale was looking at Crawly in his.

His eyes were still yellow; the eyes were the window to the soul and no amount of demonic illusion could change that. The body he was wearing was slim and tall and dark hair fell past his waist. He was still beautiful, just as he had been as an angel; just as he was as a demon.

They'd only seen each other in passing as the demons and angels made their way to their assigned places on Earth. It had been a long time since then and the anger had started to fade.

Aziraphale wasn't so angry at Kyriel for Falling anymore, for leaving him with a gaping hole in his soul that would never heal, though a little anger would never wholly leave. Since they were both immortal and would see each other on occasion throughout eternity, Aziraphale decided that they might as well try to be civil toward one another.

Civilisation was coming along nicely and both sides had decided to start to interfere. The angels would try and show the humans the path of righteousness and the demons would try and tempt them away from it. It seemed to be something of a stalemate so far - or rather, the humans didn't appear to be listening to either side and were continuing to do exactly as they pleased.

Crawly was good at temptation - it was what he did, after all, and so he would still be on Earth. Aziraphale was still on Earth because he truly thought that humans were basically good - plus he had a sneaking suspicion that going back to Heaven might result in some probing questions about exactly what he'd done with his flaming sword.

So they were both on Earth, and Aziraphale couldn't decide whether or not he wanted to see the demon again.

It turned out it didn't matter, because he did see him again. The angel was walking through the marketplace of the dusty desert town he was currently staying in when he saw a demonic aura out of the corner of his eye. Turning, eyes narrowed, he saw a pair of yellow eyes blink snakeishly at him from over the collar of a travelling cloak.

Crawly approached him.

"Hello, Aziraphale." Aziraphale nodded curtly and Crawly's lips curved, a smile without the emotion behind it. He swept a hand in an all-encompassing gesture. "You're trying to save the humans from themselves?"

"I'm trying to guide them back onto the path they've strayed from."

They looked at one another for a long time. In the few hundred years since they'd first arrived on the planet Aziraphale had only managed a raised eyebrow to acknowledge Crawly. Now he'd managed a whole sentence. Perhaps he'd be able to forgive the demon after all.

"And how is it going?"

Aziraphale shrugged. "The humans do as they will, whatever you say to them."

"Yeah, that free will thing is a bitch, isn't it?"

They looked at each other for a moment. Aziraphale could sense the undertone in Crawly’s voice but didn’t understand what he meant. Not wanting to show weakness he changed the subject.

"Will you be staying here long?" He asked, not sure what he wanted the answer to be.

Crawly shrugged slim shoulders. "Who can say? As long as I have something to keep me here, I'll stay."

There was definitely more implied that time and Aziraphale frowned. It wasn't possible that Crawly could care for him. If demons did have emotion they certainly couldn't feel things like love or tenderness. Perhaps Aziraphale was just misinterpreting him. Again, he didn't want to ask the demon to clarify.

Because now Aziraphale was pondering the meaning of another word, wondering if he dared believe in it. This word was wonderfully apt. Simple, almost dreamy, soft but with unbelievable strength: hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Another older fic, from 2005. A few edits but mostly in my older style of writing. I forgot how much I like Aziraphale/Crowley :)


End file.
